When you run with Sherlock Holmes
by SecretLyfe
Summary: Anna has always been running away from her problems. She devoted herself to studying medicine to try and help others and distract herself, but when you run with Sherlock Holmes it can be hard to stay out of the spotlight.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! So, this is a new Sherlock fic and it's gonna be the first time I've written anything more than one-shots and it's also my first Sherlock fic! So, I'd love if you could all cut me a little bit of slack as I get started here, because I'm not the most experienced at writing prose. I'm hoping to try and update this fic at least once a week but knowing me I probably will not succeed. I have a vague idea of where I want the story going, but it's still not solidified. So any little notes about my writing style, the plot, or just suggestions of little bonus chapters i could make easily in between parts of the main story, possibly about Anna's history or other past experiences of her's. Anyway...On with the fic! (P.S. This is rated M to be on the safe side because some topics later on in the fic could get a bit mature. But no smut, I always find that it interrupts the story.)**  
 _Trigger Warnings: Self Harm, Mentions of drug use, Strong language, Mentions of Panic attacks_

Dr. Anna Ethelin strode into her lab in St. Barts on Tuesday the 17th of June, 2014, her 24th birthday, at 9:04am. As usual, sitting at her microscope was Sherlock Holmes, clearly focused on whatever sample he was studying. Anna sighed, taking a long sip of her steeped-for-10-minutes tea.

"Morning Sherlock." She muttered, flopping into the seat in front of her computer and tapping the keyboard to wake it up.

"You're five minutes late." He said, his words precise as always.

"Seriously, Sherlock?" she whined, "That's all you can say to me right now? I told you last night what today is and you still can't even be bothered to mention it, you simply complain about my bloody punctuality."

"Apologies, Anna," he said, still clearly preoccupied by whatever it was he had on the microscope stage, "I didn't think it would be important to bring it up, since it is simply another day that happens to indicate the completion of another orbit of the sun for you."

Anna was about to reply but thought better of it and turned to log into her computer; she had to write up the stats from her last trial. She had been testing dosages for a new antibiotic drug on some lab mice, using a strain of _Streptococcus pneumoniae_ , and the results so far were extremely promising. All the mice treated with 10mg daily doses for 2 weeks had completely recovered from the infection.

At St. Barts there was constant research, from cancer treatments to new birth control. Anna had been invited to work there 2 years before, after her astounding scientific prowess; she had graduated from Imperial College with a Masters in Pharmaceutical Chemistry at the age of 19, and had completed her PhD by the age of 21. She had researched antibiotic resistant bacteria while studying at Imperial and quickly ended up getting noticed in the medical community. That had led her to St. Barts. She was, in all honesty, a genius.

She collaborated with doctors at the hospital to look for new antibiotic drugs, and that was how she met Molly Hooper and, by extension, Sherlock Holmes. After having been friends with Molly Hooper for a few weeks, she had walked into Molly's lab to ask if she had any spare change and stumbled upon Mr. Holmes sitting at the microscope.

 **1 year earlier**

 _Dr. Ethelin walked into Molly Hooper's lab absentmindedly, quickly doing the maths for how much money she'd need to borrow._ It's fine, _she thought,_ Molly won't mind. It's to get a present for Alex. She'll understand.

" _Molly do yo-" she stopped in the middle of her sentence. Sitting in Molly's normal chair, hunched over a computer, was a tall, skinny man with a mop of curly black hair. He didn't even glance at her. "Who the fuck are you?" she exclaimed._

 _He suddenly stood up and turned to look at her, smiling ever so slightly as he took in her appearance._

" _Sherlock Holmes," he said, extending his hand, "And you must be Dr. Anna Ethelin, brilliant."_

" _How the fuck did you know that?" she questioned, stepping back slightly._

" _You're wearing an ID badge, Dr. Ethelin," he said and smirked when Anna quickly looked down to where her ID badge was clipped on, "Now, clearly you came in here to ask Molly for something. I'm afraid she left an hour ago, presumably to go on a date. She will likely be back soon, given her history with dating. May I take a look at your left arm? I have to check something."_

 _Anna panicked. He couldn't look at her arm! He'd see the scars… She quickly hugged her left arm to her chest, shaking her head with a scared look on her face._

" _Thank you for proving my theory to be correct, Dr. Ethelin." he praised. "Now, what was it you came here to collect from Molly? As incredible as my deduction skills are, I have very little to go on other than that it is likely for a boyfriend, given the slight blush and smile when you came in and the way you are subconsciously touching a bracelet with a heart and the name 'Alex' engraved."_

Ha! _She thought,_ Got 'im now.

" _Ah, Mr. Holmes. If that's what you concluded from the situation you may not have as incredible of deduction skills as you once thought." she retorted, grinning at his stunned expression._

" _I don't see what I could have gotten wrong, Doctor." he replied, clearly flustered._

" _Alex, Mr. Holmes," she said, a sly smile creeping onto her face, "Is my girlfriend."_

 **Present Day**

"Sherlock," Anna moaned, "How long are you gonna be here? I mean, it's great seeing you and all but you talk while you think and it's really distracting, I've gotta write up these results. And anyway, I'm leaving early today for my birthday party and I have to lock up the lab...Sherlock are you even listening to me?" she yelled.

"Yes, I am listening to you." he muttered, "I am studying a sample of what should be pure arsenic. Need it for a case involving a strange string of murders…"

"Right, fine, yes, good!" she mumbled, continuing with the stats.

"Right, Sherlock, I gave you enough time to finish up. Get out of my lab so I can lock up." Anna shouted from the door, constantly checking the time to see if she could still make it to her _own party_.

Sherlock strode past her, glancing at her wrist as he did.

"You do know your watch is an hour late, correct?" he asked.

 _What._ she thought, _Oh no, it can't be._ She pulled out her phone, seeing 8 missed texts from Molly.

 _ **17:15**_ **Hi! Um, are you okay? You were meant to be here 15 minutes ago to help set up.**

 _Oh shit_

 _ **17:21**_ **Anna? Look, if you're running late that's fine but I need you to text me.**

 _Nonononono_

 _ **17:25**_ **Don't just ignore me, what did I do? I helped you plan this whole thing and you're just gonna not turn up? Well, you'd better be here for 6.**

 _Oh nooooooo_

 _ **17:55**_ **Are you okay? Anna, I'm getting really worried, you're never late.**

 _Well this is gonna be awkward…_

 _ **18:01**_ **Anna, people are arriving, they want to see you. I need to you text me ASAP because I'm panicking a bit.**

 _Bloody watch_

 _ **18:10**_ **Greg's here! Didn't think he would come.**

 _Huh, that is weird…_

 _ **18:12**_ **Anna? Anna, I really need you to answer me. John and Greg are both here and they're getting worried too. Normally when you aren't answering it means… ya know. So please just answer. Just so I know you're okay?**

 _Oh my god Molly I'm so sorryyyyyy_

 _ **18:15**_ **Right, me, Greg, and John are all gonna come to your flat to see if you're okay. The party will be fine, I'm pretty sure Mycroft is surveilling it incase Sherlock comes, I doubt he wants to leave his little brother on his own at an alcohol fueled party. We'll be there soon 3**

"Oh FUCK!" she yelled, catching Sherlock's attention from down the hall, "I'm late for my own BLOODY party and now Molly, Greg, and John are heading over to my flat." He continued walking down the hall after a few moments, "Sherlock, wait! I don't have any money and I need a cab, can I borrow some?"

"Of course." he said, handing her a wad of bills which she quickly snatched as she began sprinting towards the exit, with a quick "Thanks!" yelled over her shoulder.

During the 15 minute drive Anna was absentmindedly rubbing her arm raw, as she struggled to prevent a full-blown panic attack. Her friends had a longer drive, but knowing Greg he might have used the sirens on the car, given her history.

Once the cab pulled up by her flat she quickly paid the driver and stumbled out, still scratching her left arm. She fumbled with the door keys as she trembled but eventually managed to slot them into the lock and open the heavy oak door.

Once inside Anna shrugged her jacket onto the floor and took a moment to breathe and try to calm down. She looked down at her arm and mentally cursed herself as she saw it bleeding. Before she could go upstairs to put on a long sleeved shirt there was a pounding on her door that made her jump.

 **Molly's POV, 18:09**

It was 18:09 and the party was already in full flow, with music blasting from the stage at the end of the hall, and people already tipsy. Molly had been greeting everyone at the door, saying Anna was just running a bit late. People bought the lie, at least; Molly didn't have a clue what Anna was doing, she never ran late, if she wasn't here now she wasn't gonna be here at all.

Greg and John walked through the open door, engrossed in a conversation about the different states a body goes through after death. When Molly saw them, she quickly ran over and pulled them back outside.

"Oh thank god you're here!" she said, anxiety rising in the her voice. Upon seeing the extremely confused faces of her friends she continued, "Anna was meant to get here an hour ago and she still hasn't shown up. She hasn't answered any of the texts I've sent her and normally that means…" she trailed off at that point. They all knew what it meant.

"Right," Greg said after a few moments of silence, "Text her again, say we're all worried. If she doesn't reply in a few minutes we'll head over to her flat."

Molly obliged and pressed send, her heart racing. _What if something awful's happened?_ Molly's brain supplied, _Who knows what she's done? She has keeps everything in her flat, I know she has hiding spots for some of the stuff she knows we'd take away… Oh god, what if she's dead? She could have-_

Molly was taken out of her thoughts by John snapping a finger in front of her face.

"Molly, don't spiral." he said.

"Oh! Yes, sorry…" she replied guiltily

"Okay," Greg repeated, "Molly, tell Anna we're coming over to her flat to check on her. She doesn't need to worry about the party, I'm pretty sure Mycroft is watching it incase Sherlock shows up."

Molly typed up the text with shaking hands as they all clambered into Lestrade's car, setting off in the direction of Anna's flat, with molly constantly repeating "Please be okay, please be okay," under her breath.

They pulled up to the flat about 25 minutes later, all rushing out of the car and towards the front door.

"Well, the lights are on," John observed, "That means she is either sitting in there with some tea, was too preoccupied to remember to turn them off as she left the room, or she's shooting up. Let's find out!"

 **Anna's POV**

"Anna, it's Greg, open up!" Greg's voice floated through the door, "You know I can break this down easily if you don't open the bloody door."

 _Fuck,_ Anna thought, _Guess I'm gonna have to face the music._

She walked to the front door and hauled it open to see 3 worried faces on the other side. She silently beckoned them inside and led them into her living room; they sat on her sofa and exchanged knowing looks with each other after having seen the state of her arm. She soon came in with a tray of tea and sat on a chair. After what felt like hours but was only a few seconds, John spoke up.

"What happened?" he said, almost inaudibly, with a hoarse voice, as he got up to look at the wound.

Anna was too emotionally and physically exhausted to tell them everything. There was too much to say, and she didn't want them getting mad with Sherlock… It wasn't his fault.

"I broke."

 **There it is! The first chapter! Please do leave reviews, as it would really help me improve the quality of the fics to come!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much to everyone who read the last chapter! You is all amazing. Glad to be getting this second one out on time and I really hope you enjoy it!**

 _Trigger Warnings: Mentions of Self-Harm, Drug Use, Suicidal thoughts_

Everyone stayed silent as John grabbed the first aid kit from the bathroom and proceeded to clean and dress Anna's mangled arm. He carefully applied antiseptic to the wound, she didn't even flinch at the sting it caused; he put on gauze and wound a bandage around it to keep it in place. Once he was done he went to put away the kit and Molly engulfed Anna in a tight hug, silent tears rolling down her cheeks.

After an hour of silence, Molly and John both announced that they had to leave. They each mumbled their goodbyes to Anna and Greg, before stepping out into the warm summer night and walking to the nearest bus stop, leaving the other two together.

"You can leave too, Greg." Anna said after a few minutes, standing up and taking the mugs back to the kitchen.

"Anna, I'm not just about to leave you here on your own," Greg replied, standing up and following her to the kitchen, "Look at me. Your hands are shaking and you just scratched up your arm; I can't leave you by yourself, you know I can't. Given your history, I should be taking you to the hospital in the squad car right now, but I'm not going to because I know how much you hate it. So please just let me do what I have to."

The girl nodded reluctantly, pushing past the DI to go to bed.

"Goodnight, Lestrade." she muttered. That couldn't be good, she only called him that when she was pissed off.

"Goodnight, Anna."

 **9 months ago, Lestrade's POV**

" _Anna?" Lestrade yelled, knocking on the door, "Anna, I know you're home, your light's on and you never leave it on when you go out. Look, Sherlock just texted me and said to check up on you. All he said was 'She needs help', dunno why he couldn't come himself but I'm only seeing how you are, I won't stay long."_

 _He waited a few more moments, only to receive silence. Sighing to himself, he reached for the flowerbed, and pulled up a stone with a container on the bottom. He proceeded to get the key and slide it into the lock, the door clicking at he turned. He pushed the door open and strode into the cosy flat._

 _He quickly made his way to the living room, only to see the owner of the small flat splayed across the couch, her eyes closed. The table was completely clean other than an empty hypodermic needle. Quickly processing the scene, Greg realised what had happened and swore before springing into action._

 _He hurried over to the girl, grabbing her wrist to take her pulse. It was strong and but elevated. He tapped the pale face that presented itself to him, trying to arouse the unconscious scientist._

" _Anna," he said with authority, "Anna, I need you to talk to me. Come on."_

 _She roused, only to bat him away lazily. He sighed in relief as she slowly sat up and looked towards him, her pupils constricted._

" _Hello, Greg," she said, her speech slurred, "What a delight that you have decided to join me."_

 _Seeing his expression, she interrupted him before he could ask any questions._

" _Before you ask, which I know you were just about to, it's morphine. I did the calculations, I'm not ODing, I'm fine." she drawled the last few words, clearly struggling to remain comprehensible. Her eyelids were drooping and she wanted to lay back down_

 _He was dumbfounded._ How on earth could she think she's okay? _He wondered,_ She's literally laying on her couch, high as a kite on morphine and she thinks she's fine.

" _Does Alex know?" he asked. She shook her head._

" _Anna," he said after a few minutes, "You know I have to take you in, right? I mean, I'm a DI, I can't let you go. Given the fact you clearly keep needles around, you're a regular user and I can't just let that slide."_

" _But what would be the point, Lestrade?" she retorted, "Give me a criminal record, have me forced into some rehab centre, then once they let me out it'll just start again? What the police force don't understand is that I do this because I have no choice. I'm not a rebel, I don't get a thrill out of breaking the rules; I simply can't keep going without it.  
Anyway, they would never believe that little 23 year old genius Dr. Ethelin would be a bloody junkie. I can hide it, and I can rig the results if they do a drug test. I've planned everything down to the last detail, Lestrade, and nothing you or your goons could possibly do would beat me. I have planned my whole life. You aren't capable of taking it away."_

 _When her little speech was over, Anna stood up unsteadily and stumbled towards her room, flicking the lightswitch for the living room on the way out._

" _Goodbye, Lestrade." she shouted over her shoulder._

 _Greg stood there for a few moments before heading out to his car._ She has a point…

 **Present day, Anna's POV**

The next morning, the two friends stood in Anna's kitchen, with Lestrade preparing pancakes for breakfast and Anna making tea. Anna had had a restless night, her thoughts spiraling further and further into depression. She wanted to thank him. She wanted to have the confidence to thank her friend for his help, for his support throughout the past year… But she couldn't do that. She just couldn't.

They sat at the table, pancakes sitting there, smothered in butter, with an awkward silence hovering around them. Anna prodded her food without eating anything. She was too engulfed in the seemingly endless torment of a thought spiral to notice when Greg spoke. She looked up.

"Are you able to go to work?" he questioned, concerned.

"Yes." she mumbled, still stabbing her breakfast.

"I know you're lying but I'm not going to push you. Do you want someone to come check up on you later? I would have Molly do it but she's busy, something came up."

After he got no reply he sighed and got up, producing his phone from his back pocket.

"I'm just gonna call John and tell 'im to come to St. Bart's later, make sure your arm is okay."

"Right," Greg said after a few minutes of quiet conversation, "John's gonna come see you at Lunch to change the dressing on your arm. Text me if you need anything, and please call Alex."

With that, he left, leaving Anna once again alone in her own mind. _Alex…_ Her consciousness was filled with ideas to alleviate the pain she felt. She wrote each idea down on a page and circled them, writing down the pros and cons of each option.

Suicide:

Pros: Effective, Permanent

Cons: Painful, Hurts Others, Possibility of Failure

Self-harm:

Pros: Instant relief

Cons: Easily Visible, Temporary, Inconvenient

Drugs:

Pros: Effective, Euphoric, Easy, Not Easily Visible

Cons: Expensive, Temporary, Addictive

Each option had their merits but eventually she settled on drugs. She needed something she could take just the once...Morphine. It slowed her thoughts to a crawl and wouldn't cause issues as it wore off.

She ran up the stairs to her room, where she pulled a panel out of the wall and extracted a small blue pill with "15" on one side and "M" on the other. _Take it now, get a cab to work, have it start to wear off around 2pm. Should create the desired effect without rendering me incompetent._

She grabbed a glass of water and swallowed down the tablet. Before her brain was slowed to treacle, she grabbed some cash and slipped into a flannel shirt to cover her arm, despite it being the middle of summer.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs she felt the morphine beginning to take effect.

Trying not to stumble, she yanked open her front door and stepped into the morning air. She was getting drowsy as she hailed a cab and hauled herself inside, barely comprehensible when telling the driver her destination.

Fifteen minutes later the cab pulled up in front of St. Bart's hospital. Anna payed the driver and staggered out into the sunny morning. She walked through the doors and up the stairs to her lab, a dopey smile on her face as the morphine began hitting with full force.

She wandered into the room, frowning slightly when she saw the familiar figure once again staring down a microscope.

"Helloooo Sherlock!" she drawled joyfully.

"What is it?" he question, standing up and walking over to the grinning scientist.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh stop it, you can't lie to me, especially not in your current state. What are you on and what happened? You've been clean for months, you wouldn't break that for no reason."

"15mg of Morphine." she answered, scowling, "And...I messed up. I scared Molly, Greg, and John last night and I completed fucked up." She sighed, "Look, I'm just gonna try to get some sleep this morning, John's coming over at some point and I need to make sure he can't tell I'm high."

"He'll notice." Sherlock stated, "He is a doctor, he'll know. And if I'm correct about what occurred last night he'll be on high alert for it anyway. No use trying to hide it."

Anna groaned at that. _Why does he always, ALWAYS, have to be right?_ She flopped into the seat in front of her desktop and clicked the mouse a few times.

"Sooooo," she said, "I'm probably not able to do any research right now so what should we do for fun until John gets here in a few hours. We could study the effects of morphine on the mind of the great Sherlock Holmes, might be interesting."

"I'm working," he replied, "I'd rather not be high as I do so. I would suggest we talk about what caused you to break your streak but discussing emotions is not something that particularly interests me; I really should tell Lestrade about this but I'll leave that to John."

Anna simply sighed and accepted her inevitable fate; Lestrade was going to find out she was using again, confront her, and then give up on trying to convince her to get help. It happened every single time and that wouldn't change. Nobody would understand why she did what she did… Except maybe Sherlock, but Sherlock wasn't exactly a touchy-feely guy.

With the Morphine still numbing her thoughts, Anna drifted into a peaceful sleep for the first time in weeks. _No pain, no depression, no Alex…_

 **1:54pm, John's POV**

He checked his watch as he stepped into the quiet lab with a satchel slung over one shoulder, holding a simple first aid kit inside it. As he walked further into the lab he noticed the slumped over biologist and audibly exhaled as a realisation washed over him. _Hallelujah,_ he thought, _She's high! Back to square one, I suppose._

As he moved closer he noticed the hunched over detective a few meters away. _Well now I know where he's been going every morning._

"Afternoon, Sherlock." he muttered, looking at the ceiling.

"Afternoon, John." Sherlock replied with a clipped tone.

"Right," he said after a few seconds, "Anna? Anna, you've gotta wake up now. Yep, that's it, back to the real world, come on."

"Heeeey John," she murmured sleepily, "So great to see you just after my lovely, drug fueled nap."

"15mg of Morphine, long release pill." Sherlock said suddenly, still not looking away from his experiment.

"Thanks for that, Sherlock." Anna said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "That was super helpful, I couldn't be more fuckin' grateful."

John began examining her, looking for any sign of an overdose.

"Dude," Anna exclaimed, batting his hand away, "I'm clearly not overdosing. It was 15mg, I didn't even crush the pill. Just do what you came here to do and check my bloody arm."

She held her arm out for him to look at. John hesitated for a moment before carefully taking off the dressing and checking for indicators it may have become infected. When no obvious issue presented itself, he cleaned the wound and rewrapped her left arm before stepping back.

"I will have to tell Greg about this, ya know." John said.

"Of course I know," she replied, irritated, "I'm high, not out of my mind. Tell Lestrade whatever you feel you need to and I'll be sure to prepare tea for him back at my flat as well as making sure to be suitably intoxicated to discuss my feelings. Ba-bye now!"

John turned on his heel and walked out, trying with all his heart not to scream with frustration. _She's almost as bad as Sherlock...Almost._

 **Anna's POV**

"I think that went pretty well, don't you?" she questioned, turning towards Sherlock, who had finally looked up from the blood sample he was investigating.

"Not in the slightest." he replied.

"Oh come on! Humour me, won't you?"

Just as she was about to turn back to her computer, her phone buzzed on the counter. She picked it up and glanced at the name that presented itself. "Greg's work number: Good luck" _Sometimes past me knows exactly what she's talking about…_ She pressed the green button, and put the device up to her ear.

"He seriously already told you?" She said into the microphone.

"Who told me what?" Greg's voice came crackling through the speaker.

"Errrrr, you'll find out soon enough. Anyway, what do you want?"

"Anna… It's about Alex."

 **Daaaaamn that cliff hanger tho! Please do review this chapter as it would help me immensely with ones to come. DFTBA!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Once again, thanks so much to everyone who read the last chapter! It means a lot to me, so if you could leave a review on the story I would greatly appreciate it. Sorry this is getting out a tiny bit late, I had friends over last night.**

 _Trigger Warnings: Minor Character Death_

* * *

 **Lestrade's POV, 9:17am**

Detective Inspector Lestrade trudged into New Scotland Yard, rubbing the bridge of his nose, attempting to ward off the oncoming headache. He walked into his office and immediately collapsed at his desk, sighing and sipping his coffee. Lestrade spent 5 minutes lazily flipping through paperwork before giving up on trying to focus and lay his face down on the desk, only to be soon interrupted by Donovan stepping in to deliver yet more paperwork.

"Good time last night then, sir?" Donovan smirked.

"God, do I actually look that hungover?" He asked, only to receive a nod, "No, I-er, I didn't get much sleep. Didn't actually end up drinking anything at all."

"Ahh, got lucky at the party then?"

"No! No," he urged, "Anna had… Anna had a bad night, so I, um, stayed over at her place to make sure she didn't do anything stupid; I couldn't sleep knowing what she might do…" he trailed off after that, looking down at the floor.

Sally simply nodded and smiled sadly, before dropping the files she was holding on her boss's desk and walking out.

 **1:13pm**

Lestrade stepped out of the squad car into the drizzle of London, turning his collar up. He had been called out for a suspicious suicide near St. Barts; a woman found dead without any clear cause of death. Lestrade walked up to Donovan, who was standing by the entrance to the alleyway with a report under her arm.

"What've we got, Donovan?" Lestrade called as he approached.

"Female in her early twenties, been dead for a few days. Likely a suicide, give the note we found with her. She seems to have died from an overdose, but doesn't appear to have been a junkie. Except…"

"Well?"

"Sir, the visible symptoms don't match with any drug on record. It was injected but there's no paraphernalia around that could have been used. No needles anywhere in the alley, couldn't've been thrown anywhere."

"Right, I'll see what there is."

Lestrade put on a pair of latex gloves before ducking under the blue tape and strolling over to the body. A neatly written note was on the floor beside it, saying 'I'm sorry Anna.'

The DI looked at the face presenting itself to him for the first time and froze where he stood. _It can't be…_

"Anderson!" He yelled at the plastic hood a few meters away, "Did you find any ID on the body?"

"Yeah."

"Then why didn't you tell me?" he growled, struggling to suppress his rage, "Well, what does it say? Come on, Anderson, I haven't got all day!"

"I, um, it er it says she's called Alexandra Vias, 23 years old, lives in Twickenham."

Greg had stopped listening as soon as he said her name. _Alex… it's Alex._ he thought, _Oh shit. Oh shit, Anna. Anna's gonna-Anna's gonna break._ He rubbed his eyes, pacing slightly.

"The question is," Anderson continued, completely oblivious to his boss's stress. "Who's Anna?"

Sensing the tension in the air, Sally shot Anderson a death stare before saying anything.

"Greg, what's wrong?"

"Alex…" he whispered, looking at the body still lying in the cold. "Oh god she's gone…"

"Greg, what do you mean?" Sally continued, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"I knew her. Tha-that body there, I knew her." He said hoarsely, "She was, she was Anna's girlfriend. They, um, they had a fight a couple of days ago and haven't talked since…"

They all stood there for a few minutes in silence, neither Donovan nor Anderson wanting to be the first to speak.

"Well, we've gotta get this body to the morgue for a proper post mortem, so we can figure out if this requires a homicide investigation." Greg said, having regained his composure.

"Yessir." the sergeant and forensic scientist said in unison, quickly taking their leave.

Greg just stood there for a while, lost in his thoughts. _How can I tell Anna? How could I possibly tell Anna that she caused Alex's death… No. She didn't. This is not her fault. It is_ not _her fault._ His thoughts engulfed him, leaving him staring into the distance in the miserable weather. _Oh god she's really dead. Alex is dead._

He'd have to tell her family, except… They disowned her. All of them. Alex's parents hadn't talked to her in years. Would he be able to get away with telling Anna first? She's the person put down as an emergency contact… He had to call Anna.

He took out his work phone with shaking hands and carefully put in his friend's number. The other end began to ring, but the sound was quickly cut off as the scientist accepted the call.

"He seriously already told you?" came crackling through the phone before Greg could put his words together, momentarily pushing all other thoughts from his mind.

"Who told me what?" the DI responded, cautiously.

"Errrrr, you'll find out soon enough. Anyway, what do you want?"

"Anna… It's about Alex.

 **Anna's POV**

 _Alex…_

"W-what? Greg, Greg what do you mean?" she murmured, her voice wavering.

Sherlock looked over, concerned.

"Alex…" Greg's voice said again, obviously trying to hold back tears, "Alex is dead, Anna.

She froze. Time stood still and all she could hear was the blood pumping through her body. All was still for a moment; all was quiet.

The sound of metal and glass coming into contact with linoleum brought her back to the real world, and for a shining moment everything was fine. But then she remembered. Hot, salty streams ran down her face, and she could hear nothing but her own tormented mind.

She felt her body slide down the wall to the floor, the cold material soothing her skin. Nothing mattered anymore. Alex was gone.

 **Sherlock's POV**

Sherlock watched uselessly as the usually confident form suddenly looked so small, so useless. He saw the body slide down the wall and fall to the floor, doing nothing to prevent its fate.

Shaking himself from the sight, he rushed over and picked up the phone, observing the spider-like cracks it had accumulated.

"Talk to me, Lestrade." Sherlock stated, ignoring the sight before him.

"I-Sherlock? Why are you there?"

"Nevermind that, Lestrade, what's happened. Tell me."

"Alex is dead, Sherlock."

"Where?"

Sherlock heard Lestrade sigh before he answered, "The alleyway near St. Bart's. You know the one. Just… Oh god, is Anna okay?"

"Yes, yes, just fine. John won't be out of the door yet, I'll fetch him on my way to you."

"Sherlo-" Sherlock ended the call before Lestrade could finish his sentence and rushed out of the lab, grabbing his coat.

The consulting detective sprinted through the corridors, knocking into John on his way out the door and saying something about looking after Anna, without giving any context.

As he neared the entrance to the alley he saw the flashes of police tape and Lestrade sitting up against a wall, head in his hands.

"How?" Sherlock said, almost yelling.

"What the bloody hell do you mean, 'How?'?" the detective replied, looking up to reveal a tear stained face.

"How did she die? You wouldn't tell me unless you wanted me to help solve the case." he said, trying to look around the corner from behind the striped tape.

"Alex is not a case, Sherlock!" Lestrade yelled, standing up and walking over to the younger man, "I told you because Alex was your fucking friend!" he took a breath, trying once again not to cry. "She's _dead_ , Sherlock. Do you not care about that in the slightest?""

"I don't have friends."

"Yes you bloody do! What do you call me, eh? Or John? What about Anna and Molly? What about _Alex_? You were her friend Sherlock. Don't just make her another case." He shook his head as he finished, turning and walking away.

"I want to thank her." Sherlock called out, making the DI stop. "I want to solve her murder to say thank you. We both know this wasn't a suicide, Lestrade. Alex deserves better than us just leaving it like that."

Lestrade stood there for a few moments before nodding and ducking under the tape.

 **John's POV**

Sherlock rushed past his friend, throwing a quick comment over his shoulder about Anna being "in a state of disarray" as he put it. That, coupled with Sherlock's rare flash of panic aroused John's concern about the scientist.

The doctor hurried up to the laboratory, panic rising. What could possibly be wrong to get Sherlock so worried? _I guess I'm about to find out…_

He stepped into the quiet, erie room. All he could hear was a high-pitched whimpering sound from behind a counter top. He stepped around the surface, and caught sight of a sobbing pile of cloth laying on the floor.

 _Oh Anna…_

 **Anna's POV**

 _She's gone, she's gone, she's gone. Alex is dead, she's dead. It's my fault, my fault, MY FAULT. There's someone here. They just walked in. Doesn't matter. She's dead, dead, dead._

 _Touching. They're touching me. Get off, off, off, stop it! Alex is dead, nothing matters, nothing matters anymore. Stop touching me, leave me alone, get off!_

 _They stopped. Talking… They're talking now. I can hear them. I don't want to hear them, I want to talk to Alex, I want Alex back! Scared, so scared, so alone._

 _I made her do this, she's dead because of me. It's my fault my fault my fau-_

"Anna," John said softly, finally snapping her from her thoughts, "Anna talk to me. Anna if you want help you have to tell me what's happened."

She slowly looked up, tears still blurring her vision. Her voice was hoarse as she spoke, barely above a whisper.

"Alex is gone."

 **John's POV**

Kneeling in front of the wreck that was his friend, John started speaking gently.

"Hey. Hey Anna. Anna, can you tell me what's happened?" she said, putting a hand on her shaking arm.

No response.

"Anna I can't help unless you tell me. Please, I want to help."

He shook her gently for a few moments, trying to bring her back into reality. Her breathing quickened and suddenly a hand lashed out with jagged nails, aimed at the doctor's face. He leaned back but wasn't quick enough and his cheek was caught, radiating pain. He raised a hand to the wound, then brought it infront of his eyes to see bright, scarlet blood.

He took his hand from the scientist's arm and her breathing began to return to normal. Or at least, as normal as it could be whilst she was sobbing.

"Okay, I won't touch you. Anna please talk to me, I just need to know what's wrong."

Her mouth began moving slightly, words coming out as a murmur.

"I want to talk to Alex, I want Alex back…" was all John could hear.

"Hey, you want to talk to Alex? I can call her, do you want that?"

No response.

"Anna," he said, "Anna talk to me. Anna if you want help you have to tell me what's happened."

She looked up, eyes red and puffy with tear tracks running down her cheeks and spoke at an almost inaudible volume.

"Alex is gone." she said hoarsely.

"What do you mean? You mean Alex left?" John questioned, slowly reaching out to brush the strands of hair from his friend's face. "Yeah, Anna. You-you fought with each other and she left. You haven't talked to her since Sunday. I can call her for you, I can get her to come over…" he trailed off in thought. _Why had Sherlock been rushing? Maybe Alex… No. No, that's not… No._

"Anna what's happened to Alex?" he said, concern suddenly present in his voice.

She just shook her head, tears streaking down her face.

"Anna _tell me_." he ordered, realising quickly how intimidating he sounded and lowering his voice, "Please."

"She…" Anna muttered, "She's dead."

 _What,_ he thought, _What does she mean Alex is dead. Alex can't be dead, she… she can't be._

"What happened?" he asked sternly, causing her to recoil.

"G-Greg called… She's dead. She's dead, John, she's dead." the girl burst into tears and fell into the doctor's chest, trying to silence her crying.

"I… " he trailed off, not knowing what to say. Alex was _dead_.

Something told him that these would not be easy weeks to come.

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 **And that's it for this chapter! Woo! I really hope you enjoyed and if you have any feedback at all, positive or negative, remember to leave a review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello all! So sorry to be quite this late uploading but my weeks have suddenly gotten busier so I will probably only update once every 2 weeks. So sorry about that but I do hope you stick around, it's about to get exciting! P.S. As you may have noticed, the POVs are less actually POVs and more just... Third person but including that character's thoughts? Yeah.**

 _Trigger Warnings: Dead body, mention of drug OD, non-graphic description of a post-mortem_

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 **Sherlock's POV**

Sherlock pulled on the mandatory latex gloves before striding towards the body. He lifted the stiff left arm and rolled up the sleeves, seeing a needle mark. _Drugs._ But it was… Strange. The puncture mark was in the middle of the forearm, clearly not self administered. _Drugged. Only a fool wouldn't notice that._

 _Clearly a drug overdose, not asphyxiation, no signs of vomiting. Possible seizure… Substance unknown_

 _Apology note to Anna, on her way to see her._

 _No needle in sight, attacker left with weapon. Few signs of a struggle: bruising on left wrist, blood stain on wall. She hardly put up a fight…_

Sherlock was dragged from his deductions by Lestrade's voice.

"Sherlock, I need anything ya got. She's being taken to the morgue soon for a full post mortem soon and I can't stop them." Lestrade's voice wavered slightly at the thought of his friend having a post mortem performed on her decomposing corpse.

"Drug overdose, clearly not self inflicted due to position of puncture mark and lack of apparatus nearby," Sherlock listed, "Not a commonly used drug, the symptoms make no sense. Signs of a struggle but barely. She gave up quickly. She was coming to see Anna and apologise but clearly never made it. It wasn't a suicide note, not her style. She was going to get someone to take the note to Anna instead of confronting her."

"That's all you've got?"

"Well, the attacker is female, about 1.7m tall, likely a former drug addict given their ability to access the necessary materials. Look for someone matching that description who was in Bart's on Monday." He pulled off the gloves with a snap, spinning on his heel and beginning to walk away before stopping and speaking over his shoulder, "Make sure Molly performs the post mortem, I want access to the results as soon as possible. I'll make sure she gets it done quickly."

With that, he walked away from the dazed Lestrade, remembering the state he left the young scientist in. He hurried back to the lab, hoping John had done as he asked.

 **Anna/John's POV**

Anna had been sitting there, sobbing into John's shoulder, for half an hour before Sherlock strode in with a slight smile on his face and clapped his hands together.

"Right," he said, looking over to the two figures huddled on the ground with blotchy, red faces, "Molly should be done with the post mortem within the hour; in the meantime, we can go gather evidence at Alex's flat."

Anna looked up at the man with puffy eyes and tear tracks running down her face. She slowly rose to her feet, ignoring John's warnings to back down. _How dare he._

"How dare you speak like that." she whispered, rage rising in her voice, "How dare you smile. You're acting as though on of your friends isn't laying dead on the street. She's dead and it's my fault!" The scientist was screaming now, tears once again falling, "It's my fault! _I_ kicked her out, _I_ told her she was useless, _I_ made this happen! She's dead and it's because I couldn't understand that she was right to be upset! I should have told her sooner, I shouldn't have let her find out from a police report. She needed to know but I didn't tell her, and now she's dead. Because I was too caught up in my own problems to see how they could affect others."

She turned away from the stunned detective without another word and grabbed her bag, about to storm about before Sherlock stuck out an arm to stop her.

"It wasn't your fault." he said, calmly.

"Of course it was, she died and it was because I made her do it."

"It wasn't suicide, Anna. She was murdered."

The scientist's breath hitched. _Oh my god, she was murdered._ She thought, _She was bloody murdered, it wasn't me, it was some bastard with the guts to kill MY girlfriend._

"Say that again." she murmured, turning to look at the men in the room with her.

"She was murdered. Drugged." Sherlock said, a slight hint of emotion coming through, "I don't know what with yet, Molly should find out soon enough."

Without another word, Anna rushed out the door towards the morgue. _Those damn police had better have got the body to the morgue by the time she gets there or there's gonna be trouble,_ John thought as he scurried after his friend, towards the basement.

 **Molly's POV**

Molly Hooper walked over to the body she had just received, with instructions to perform a full post mortem. She pulled on some gloves and unzipped the body bag only to stumble backwards when she saw the face.

 _That's Alex,_ she thought, _That's definitely Alex… That means Alex is dead, oh god does Anna know? I should go tell he- no, no I have to… I have to do the post mortem. Then I'll tell Anna. I'll go tell Anna straight after-_

Molly was shaken out of her thoughts as the doors to the room flew open, revealing Anna with a tear-stained face and complete determination.

"Molly," she said, authoritatively, as John and Sherlock staggered through the doors, "You are going to let me do this, because I may not be officially qualified but I know exactly what I'm doing. You can help me but you will _not_ stand in my way."

Dumbstruck, Molly just nodded and moved to get the equipment ready. Anna spun around to face the two men behind her and spoke sweetly.

"Gentlemen, unless you are going to help you will leave."

They both stood their ground, clearly wanting to help solve the murder of their friend.

"Well then," the scientist said, "Let's get started."

They all moved to get the appropriate protective clothing, except Sherlock who, of course, only pulled on some gloves. Molly was sure she heard John mutter something about hygiene under his breath and smiled slightly at the way they each dealt with their grief. Clearly, Anna was trying to take control. She always did that. It was how she got through life, dealing with what she could and then freaking out when she couldn't affect things. John was like an open book, but written in riddles. Everything was there, right at the surface, but it was cryptic and impossible to interpret for anyone except Sherlock. Molly just… Followed. When she wasn't sure what to do, she did as she was told and tried to forget what had happened. Then Sherlock was, well, Sherlock.

With steady hands, Anna made an incision on the right abdomen, near the liver. There was scarring: liver failure. Next an incision over the heart, cut through the rib cage, clear strain on the heart: heart failure.

"Sherlock," Anna said, hardly audible.

"Yes?"

"Were there any signs of vomiting? Possible asphyxiation?"

"No."

"I think I know what it is." She announced, walking away from the examination table and taking off the scrubs with precision. "She's only been dead a few days, it should still be detectable. Molly send a blood sample to my lab, preferably from near the needle entry site. I'm going to prepare a test. Sherlock, with me."

Completely composed, the young scientist walked out of the room with the tall, dark haired figure trailing behind her, frustrated by his cluelessness.

Molly turned to John, still slightly stunned.

"What the heck is she thinking?" she asked, grabbing a syringe.

"I'm not sure, but knowing her she's right…" he muttered. "Are you alright? I mean… Alex."

Molly froze in the middle of gathering the blood sample.

"I'm doing as well as you are. Anna and Sherlock are already too focused on finding out what happened to cry." she said, voice wavering.

"You know that Anna's only focused because she knows that if she stops she'll break down." the doctor said, laying a hand on her shoulder, "She's going to need us. If she calls or texts you, be there. And also get that sample upstairs soon so she doesn't have long to think about anything else. I've got to call Greg and make him do a proper search of her flat, make sure Sherlock texts me any developments. Stay safe, Molly."

Once he had left, Molly let her smile drop and finally began to cry. What felt like hours were spent thinking about her friend, about how she was gone. But it was only a minute. She wiped the tears from her face and once again put on her cheerful facade. She had to do this for Anna.

 **Sherlock's POV**

"Sherlock get the bottle from the cupboard labeled 'That fucker you came up with last year'." Anna ordered, already gathering beakers and pipettes on the surface.

Sherlock looked at her with utter confusion, before silently obeying and placing the bottle by the rest of the equipment, half of which he didn't recognise. He didn't understand why he had never seen it before, despite his extensive knowledge of Chemistry. He stood there, scanning the apparatus for a few moments before Anna sighed and explained.

"I invented it," she said, still bustling around the room gathering glassware, "I needed certain equipment and it wasn't exactly… standard. So I designed what I needed and commissioned a glassblower. Not that hard."

A few minutes later, Molly walked in with a small vial of rust coloured blood; Anna immediately set to work, clamping the vial over a Bunsen burner and adding some of the strange blue liquid she had Sherlock collect. Her mind whirred, looking for any sign of change in the sample. When the mixture began to turn a brighter shade of red, the biochemist rushed to turn of the roaring flame and grab the small vial, extracting some of the compound and placing it on a thin glass plate.

"Sherlock, grab me some perchloric acid, preferably 6.5M if it's there, pure if not."

Sherlock hurried over to the side room, returning 20 seconds later, having not remembered to bring protective gloves with him, with a glass jar marked with the corrosive warning symbol standing out in bright colours and a small, hand-written label of '6.5M' as well.

"Anna you should probably be using gloves with that." Molly said, cautiously.

Anna simply ignored her friend's warning and extracted some of the acid, moving over and dropping it onto the crimson fluid on the dish. The moment, the acid touched the blood, it fizzed and became a bright green residue.

Anna's face fell. She turned towards her friends, walking over slowly and hugging Sherlock.

"It's my fault." she said, voice muffled slightly by the detective's shirt.

"It was a murder, it couldn't possibly be your fault." he replied.

"I know what the drug was. And it's my fault."

"What do you mean?" Molly asked, bewildered.

"She was drugged with the drug _I've_ been working on." Anna sobbed, "I've checked her blood, it's the antibiotic I'm testing. She was killed with a drug _I_ made, it's _my_ fault."

"No," Molly said, softly, "No, it's not your fault Anna. You're making that to save lives, someone could have stolen it. It's not your fault, I promise."

"For once, Molly's right." Sherlock said, earning a scowl from both the women in the room, which he of course didn't notice, "The game is on. We will find the murderer, and when we do, Alex will have the justice she deserves. Call Lestrade, we must start at once and, unfortunately, we need the help of the ever incompetent Scotland yard."

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 **And that's another chapter over! Remember to review and leave feedback, as it is always appreciated, whether positive or negative. DFTBA! -Lyfe**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi! Omg, I'm so sorry for how long it's been since the last chapter but I've been stuck trying to write this one for so long. Originally I was gonna make it way longer with this bit just as the start but since I've made you all wait so long I felt a bit bad, so here's a quick chapter for all of you! I'm gonna try t0 make the next update quicker but I can't make any promises!**

 _Trigger warnings: Mentions of drug use... I think that's it._

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 **Alex's POV, Sunday, 5:47pm**

 _Alex strolled into Scotland Yard, false smile on her face. She kept thinking back to months ago when Anna seemed… Sadder. More withdrawn from the world around her. Then she was gone for a week. No contact, not at home, nothing. But she came back. She had colour to her cheeks and her smiles were real. Alex hadn't even realised they had been fake, but seeing this it was clear they had been. She never got an explanation for where her girlfriend had been, or why she completely cut off contact. Alex even went to Lestrade about it, wanting to file a missing person's report. But he told her not to, to wait a little longer. It was suspicious but Alex trusted him, and sure enough, Anna came back, happy for the first time in all the time they had known each other._

 _But her suspicions were back, after so many months of turning the thought over in her mind she wanted to know what was going on. It wouldn't be in police reports, she knew that. Lestrade and Sherlock were the only other people who could decipher Anna, and they wouldn't make anything official. Alex figured out what she could from the database she had access to, but there was nothing. Nothing at all about Anna Ethelin._

 _So, as any good girlfriend would, she snuck into her friend's office and hacked his computer, planning to look through it all later at her house. Getting him out of his office was easy, she just asked him to fetch her some cold cases; she might as well hit two birds with one stone. But the moment she woke the computer up, there was an excel document open with the name 'Anna'._ What the fuck? _Alex thought, immediately jumping to the conclusion that Greg had been keeping some weird, creepy diary of her girlfriend. But then she saw the titles for each column…_

' _Date of last known relapse'_

' _Date of last house check'_

' _Results of last house check'_

What the actual fuck is going on, _she thought,_ Anna isn't some junkie. Greg's got some explaining to do, that mother fucker.

 _She sat down on her friend's surprisingly comfortable chair. She was finally getting some answers. Greg walked in, confusion flashing on his face when he saw her glaring at him, menace in her eyes._

" _I want answers." She said bluntly, watching him for any indication of what the fuck was happening._

" _Answers about what?" he replied._

" _Answers about this excel document," she said, grinning internally when she saw realisation dawn._

" _What ex-"_

" _Don't even attempt to hide anything from me; I may not be Scotland Yard but that's only because I've never bothered trying to get promoted. I know when you're lying. And I'm pissed off."_

" _I really can't tell you, Alex. If you want to know you'll have to ask Anna yourself." He was trying to get out of the situation, clearly._ Pathetic.

" _Greg, let me make myself very, very clear," Alex growled, standing up and filling the office with her presence, "You have a weird ass document about MY bloody girlfriend open on your computer right now, and it is full of info suggesting that she's a junkie. I love her to bits and I need to know. Now talk."_

" _Fine, but I would like something to protect me from her wrath… Or just don't tell her I had any part in this, actually. That's my safest option." The DI sighed, "Last year I walked in on her whilst she was shooting up. She'd been on the stuff for a while. I helped her get clean but she wasn't ready to tell you… She still isn't. But you need to talk to her yourself. Tonight."_

 _Alex was stunned. Anna had hidden this from her for their entire relationship. She had to talk to her. Without another word, Alex ran out of the building and hailed a taxi, ready to face her girlfriend. Kinda. Maybe. Okay, not ready at all. But it had to be done._

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 **And that's all for now folks! Remember to leave a review because I always appreciate it. DFTBA!**

 **-Lyfe**


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